Surprise!
by Regal Panther
Summary: Or, "Reasons to Fear Canada". Individual traits of each province and territory that show just how afraid of Canada you should really be.
1. Quebec: Over Protective

This is how I imagine Quebec from Hetalia... I'm sorry if I've somehow disappointed you...

And I'M SORRY IF I MADE ANY ERRORS IN THE FRENCH SENTENCES. Yes, I live in Quebec. However, I am situated on the island of Montreal. Plus, English is my first language...

-Panther-chan

P.S.: I've got a whole thing planned out for all the provinces and territories of Canada. THIS WILL BE SO MUCH GODDAMN FUN :D

Rated T for Quebec's creative threats.

* * *

Quebec: Over-Protective

It was a normal visit to his brother's house: they ate burgers, watched "scary" movies, and played catch.

Unfortunately, Alfred still didn't know how to go slow. He threw the ball as fast as he could, saying his little brother was too slow and he should learn how to speed up.

Nothing unusual.

What surprised Alfred was the person that was waiting for Matthew when it was time for him to go back home. A woman between 25 and 30 was leaning against a dark blue Mustang that had a white fleur-de-lis on the hood. Blond and blue streaked wavy hair reached just past her shoulders and was held back in a ponytail. Sunglasses covered her eyes, she had a black leather jacket over a shirt the color of the car with the same flower on it, and her brown suede boots had fur around the top rim and looked warm enough to survive a Siberian winter. The outfit, coupled with her black jeans, struck Alfred as odd – but she pulled it off with aplomb, and when Matthew approached, she removed her sunglasses and took a few steps forward to meet him. The sunglasses went into the breast pocket of the jacket and she raised a hand to inspect the forming bruise on his face.

After a moment, they spoke in French and she gazed over at Alfred. "America," she said in way of greeting.

"Hello. Um... who are you?" he asked, confused.

"I am Quebec, a province of Canada."

"Oh! You're above Maine, then."

"Indeed."

She looked him up and down, and turned back to his brother with a soft smile. "Tu peut rester dans l'auto, Mathieu," she said. Alfred didn't understand it, but his brother nodded in agreement and got in the car, where Kumajiro was waiting. The door was shut and she turned on her heel to march over to Alfred. It was the march of a soldier, not the model he thought it would be.

She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled his face down to her height. She wasn't much shorter, but enough to make a difference. Then, she glared at him.

It was a glare that made him glad to be alive afterwards.

"You are very lucky you are Mathieu's brother, Alfred. Because if you were not, I would have been torn between the desire to yank out your spine and strangle you with it, rip out your ribs and beat you to death with them, or twist off your arm and hit you over the head with it until you die of brain damage."

He had started to shiver the moment her icy voice sounded into the night air, and when she was done speaking, he could do naught but whimper like a whipped dog.

"I will give you two warnings. One: if you hurt Mathieu again out of stupidity like you have today, I will exact copious revenge that will not be pleasant at all on your part. Two: I never make a threat I will not follow through on."

His eyes were wide in fear, his pupils dilated. He couldn't breathe, either. This fear was worse than anything he had ever experienced: not even Russia's aura could compare to the one Quebec was emitting right now.

He couldn't respond.

"I will give you five seconds to reply."

"Okay!" he blurted out desperately, not knowing what else to say. She sighed and released him, and the nation stumbled backwards before falling on his rear. She gave him a mournful look.

I do not like threatening those dear to Mathieu, but I will not stand by while he is hurt by his own family. Ne le pas blesser sans raison et nous serrons des amis. Tu comprends cela, oui?"

"... Um... what?" he whispered. She blinked, then chuckled. It would have been a nice sound had Alfred not been too scared to so much as blink.

"Oh, that's right. You do not understand French. I will repeat it in English. Do not hurt him without reason and we will be friends. You understand that, yes?"

Oh. She wanted to be friends, then. She was just over-protective of his brother. "Uh... okay?" it came out quavering and weak, but he didn't care about that. He just wanted this demon out of his territory.

"Good, good. Thank you for hosting him today. I will see you again soon, I think, at the festival. Goodbye for now, America."

She got into the driver's seat of the car and it sped off, leaving Alfred to his own devices.

"I think I just shit myself," he muttered as he watched the vehicle disappear into the distance.

* * *

LOLLOLLOL

This is how I picture Quebec: as an over-protective big sister kinda girl. She's actually older than Canada because Quebec existed WAY before Canada, as Kebec (Native speak for "Where the River Narrows"), a trading post for the fur trade and aboriginals.

WEEEEEEEEEE...

And since technically she was found(ed) by France, she's got a lot of his influence showing plain as day. The hair, the fleur-de-lis, the oddly good taste in fashion, etc, etc, etc...

Lol. More to come!

-Panther-chan


	2. British Columbia: Violent

I dunno... I always thought of Quebec as protective of Canada, since Quebec WAS, at first, Canada.

Thanks for all the reviews! Jesus Christ you people were bored. And if I use a non-English language again, I'll include translations... sorry for all non-French-speaking people who read the first chapter...

Anyway, this is for British Columbia, and before you say that BC shouldn't be like this, think about the location. They're squooshed between mountains and the ocean, and their weather varies a lot between seasons.

-Panther-chan

* * *

British Columbia: Violent

It was some kind of Winter Festival and Alfred, being the good brother he was, had decided to attend.

Being a good brother didn't have anything to do with being scared of Quebec's wrath should he not attend. No sirree. No correlation whatsoever.

At the moment, he was busy enjoying a delicious triple-chocolate, piping-hot beaver tail – one of Mattie's specialties. It was delicious, to say the least. "Hey brother!" he heard Matthew's voice whisper. He mumbled a reply through a full mouth, and his brother smiled. "You shouldn't speak with your mouth full... I can't really understand it..." Both nations felt a shiver run up their spine and they turned their heads ever so slowly to see a teenage girl, no older than 16, staring with narrowed eyes at East Germany – the one who used to be named Prussia.

"I'm awesome!"

"Canada is _way_ more awesome than whatever fucked-up scumbag _you_ claim to be!"

The fair-haired nation scoffed and smacked her upside the head. "You're pathetic! You weren't even a nation in a _single point in history_! Canada... whoever that is... sucks shit, just like you!"

Matthew twitched violently and muttered, "Oh no... she's snapped!" just as the girl roared and leaped for the man's throat.

"DON'T DISS CANADA, BITCH!" she screamed while smacking him around the head and choking him at the same time. Then, she started to swear in several different languages, including German. That shocked the downed man, or so Alfred thought – but the "awesome" guy on the ground was preoccupied by the fact that he now had a severe concussion, was bleeding from the nose and mouth, and couldn't breathe.

Alfred watched in morbid fascination as non-Canadians panicked and the natives of the nation simply sighed and went on their merry ways. After a minute a tall woman in all-white clothes that looked like they were made of polar bear and deer stepped from the crowd to pick up the raging teen.

"LET ME FUCKING GO NORTH-WEST THIS LITTLE SHIT HAS TO DIE! HE FUCKING INSULTED CANADA BITCH PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW I'LL FUCKING KILL HIM-"

A hand over her mouth served to silence her, and she bit it, drawing blood, but a man of about 20 in a dark blue denim jacket and jeans with a scruffy-looking light brown parka over it just wiped it off on his leg and smacked the back of her head. He had a dark brown cow-boy hat to complete the look and he grinned. "Calm yerself, B.C. Jesus. Ya need ta learn yerself some control."

"Ah, Manitoba. Nice of you to join us."

Quebec was now sitting beside Alfred and he shrieked and fell off his barrel-made-stool, his beaver-tail going flying.

"Oh, hello again America. Are you enjoying the festival?"

He swallowed audibly and nodded frantically. She smiled gently in return and a bit of his previous fear slipped away – only to return when she reached back and grabbed Russia by the hair. "Do you need something, Russia?"

"Nyet. I am here for the festival!"

"Then please stop spying. We do not discuss national matters in public."

"Da, Quebec."

She released him and he swiftly disappeared into the crowd. Matthew's eyes were wider than dinner plates, and Alfred, for once, was just as scared – of his brother's province, that is.

"So, B.C. How goes the cold season?" Quebec asked with a smile to the calmed teen.

"Oh, quite good. The grizzlies are nice and big too!"

"That is good to hear."

Her smiled scared the shit out of a spying England, and the man was quite sure she was aiming it at him. He knew that Quebec pretty much hated his guts, but since British Columbia didn't (the name is a hint), she refrained from killing him.

* * *

I know this included other, not yet seen provinces (and a territory!) but this was to show off British Columbia's violent side, in accordance with her weather.

Guess who's next?

-Panther-chan


	3. Alberta: Curse

Sorry, no Trampling Cow and no oil barrels... Just a plain old protective spirit named Prairie. Don't ask. Alberta named it that when she was really young... and yes, she is quite the daydreamer, but it an excellent farmer and has a green thumb! Her older brother is Manitoba, by the way, because that's how they're mapped out in my head... :D

-Panther-chan

* * *

Alberta: Curse

The prairies were a trait that Canada and America shared, and they both boasted of the wheat that grew in abundance. Though, one of the two nations never seemed to be heard over the other, louder one. This wasn't something that bothered Alberta, mainly because she was quite fond of naps and always had her head halfway to the moon.

"Hey, Alberta!"

"Huh?" she looked up from her tabby cat, who was quietly purring in her lap, and chewed on the stick of fruity gum she had just popped into her mouth. Two pigtailed braids hung over her small chest and the overalls, made of denim like the jacket of her brother Manitoba, laid over her brown and blue plaid shirt. She had a pair of moccasins on with beads woven onto them in the pattern of three stalks of wheat, and her straw hat covered most of her face until she looked up. She had a pair of green and pink gardening gloves stuck in her pocket and they peeked out, dry dirt crumbling off. Alfred took a moment to notice the freckles over her nose and cheeks and her golden eyes before shooing the cat off her lap and picking her up like he would a small child.

"YOU'RE SO CUTE!" he screamed, hugging her to death while she stared out into space, day-dreaming about apple picking and log cake. After a few moments of doting on her he put her back on the chair and grinned. "So, you up for that gardening contest?"

"What contest?"

"The one I talked to you about the other day! Between you and my best gardeners, of course! If you lose, we get some oil! If we lose, you get... um, something!"

"Oh. Sure, okay. When do we start?"

"Right... NOW!"

He pressed a button on a square device and it beeped once before he tossed it into the air, where it exploded. "There! My gardeners have been alerted! Go, go, go! Go grow some cool stuff, Alberta!"

"Now?" she inquired lazily, staring at the cat and wishing it were on her lap so she could pet it.

"Yes, now!" Alfred replied excitedly.

"'Kay." She stood and stretched, completely relaxed, and ambled away to find some gardening tools.

Two weeks later, Alfred went to visit his gardeners – only to find that their plants had died, their pets were all sick, and one of them had followed the same path as their plants. Their houses had flooded, had termites, and a sinkhole had appeared in the center of it all.

It really freaked him out, so he called Manitoba.

"Holy crap! What happened?"

"Hm?" Manitoba, who had been silently praising his little sister's lovely garden, had absently answered his cell phone (a gift from Ontario) to find that Alfred's "expert gardeners" were running into a lot of bad luck. "Oh, they must've tried ta sabotage Alberta. See, she's blessed in a way that people who try ta mess with her git cursed with real bad luck. We call the spirit that takes care o' her Prairie, cause mah little sister decided that that was its name."

Alfred could do naught but warn the other nations not to mess with Alberta, because she would unwittingly curse them all.

* * *

LOLLOLLOL. I love Alberta.

-Panther-chan

P.S: Trampling Cow is her pet cow. There's a lot of them and if you upset her (which is nigh impossible) they will stampeded and trample you. Hence the name Trampling Cow.

May include that later on. Maybe.


	4. Manitoba: Vengeance

So, yeah... here's what Manitoba, Alberta's older brother, looks like in my head... I had fun with Ducky.

Seriously. He acts all badass with enemies, but is a real sweetheart and is very sentimental with family. And Ducky.

I can't type for shit right now. Thanks, M, for the wonderful sleepover. I DIDN'T SLEEP.

-Panther-chan

* * *

Manitoba: Vengeance

A brown-and-red plaid shirt, dark blue jeans, a matching denim jacket, a dark-brown suede cowboy hat, and dark snake-skin boots – plus the grass stalk poking out of the corner of his mouth: it was definitely Manitoba. The woman smiled and walked up to the truck.

"Heya Ukraine," he welcomed from the driver's seat in his dusty red pickup. She smiled and waved.

"Can I have a ride?"

"Sure, hop in. I'm headin' over ta Canada's place fer a supper thing he sets up once a month. You wanna come?"

"Okay!"

And off they went, driving to the main house where the provinces and territories would meet every month to discuss business, citizens, and have fun as a family. On the way they had to stop for gas and he asked Ukraine to watch the truck while he went into the station to pay.

When he was gone, three men and a woman in leather jackets, pants and boots approached the car. One of them whistled, and the poor woman inside didn't know what to do. "This here's a nice truck. Old, but in good shape. Could fetch a pretty penny."

"Yep," the woman spoke. "Denny's lookin' for the old ones now. Says he's starting up a collection."

"'Scuse me, I'd like to get to my vehicle now." Ukraine sighed in relief when the four would-be thieves ran off. "Sorry 'bout that, Ukraine. Some o' my citizens ain't the nicest 'o people."

"Oh, I don't mind. It gives the world variety!"

He chuckled good-naturedly. "That it does."

The next day, the four who had considered stealing his precious truck, which he had named "Ducky", were found dead in a ditch with the letter M carved onto their forehead.

When Matthew realised that it was _his_ Manitoba that had done it he called the man up and asked why.

"They were your own citizens! Why would you kill them?"

He heard a sniff on the other side and assumed Manitoba was being sentimental again. "They tried to steal Ducky."

The nation felt the urge to slap himself in the face, but resisting. Instead, he sighed tiredly and replied, "Well, instead of killing your own people, why don't you focus on keeping England out of our borders? He tends to get drunk around this time of year and then he decides he'd like to reminisce about the era where I was part of his empire."

"Right, then. I'll speak to ya later, Mattie. Have fun over at yer house, ya hear me?"

"Loud and clear, Manitoba."

"Right then!"

The other man hung up and his leader sighed tiredly, deciding he wanted to talk to Quebec for a little while to rest his mind.

Unknown to him until a later hour, three victims were tied up in Manitoba's basement while he spent some time cleaning his hunting rifles and his saws. He conveniently forgot about them being down there.

* * *

Guess who's next?

I think it's North-West Territories... mebbe...

-Panther-chan


	5. NorthWest Territories: Merciless

So, now it's a territory! North-West Territory, the least merciful of all the provinces/territories of Canada. Sorry for the large gap between uploads, I've been too busy to acces my computer before now! Sorta...

Anyway, here's another chapter explaining why you should fear Canada! Or trust, if we're your ally.

-Panther-chan

* * *

North-West Territories: Merciless

The Woman in White, as Alfred knew her for a while after the Winter Festival, was a fearsome being and was the main hunter of his little brother's house. Every day, she brought in at least three large moose and two deer. On the side, she sometimes had beaver, rabbit, grouse, fox, wolf, seal, snake, bear, and fish. She would also bring in medicinal herbs she sometimes found, along with wild raspberries – which British Columbia loved to snack on.

She never spoke when other people were around, but Ontario, a man around Matthew's age with dark brown, slicked-back hair and blue eyes along with some kind of formal attire, spoke highly of her intelligence and always made sure her opinions were heard.

The only thing Alfred really knew about her was that her territory was cold, harsh, had Inuits, and lots of polar bears. He also knew that she was almost as scary as Quebec without really meaning to be. She was a very intimidating person, simply because of the meat she brought home daily and the way she wore animal skins for clothes. Her blank, pupil-less white eyes were almost as bad. The only color she ever had was in the feathers braided into her hair by Inuits. One was red, another was white, a third was blue, and the fourth and fifth were green and yellow.

She was always in the background and preferred observing others over speaking her piece. Matthew seemed to know it anyway, though, and said it for her – and when he wasn't listened to, British Columbia would scream for everyone to "shut your fucking faces and listen".

Not even France was stupid enough to keep talking.

One memory of her stuck out in Alfred's memory: he had been invited by Matthew to a hunting trip in the North-West Territories, and he had been so pumped up he barely noticed the bear behind him. It was as white as the snow, and while he was preoccupied by the sighting of a beach full of seals, it had decided he was edible and had snuck up on him. He felt one breath on the back of his head before he realized that his head was going to become a polar bear's new chew toy before something smacked the top of the bear's head and it collapsed from the force of N.W.T's fist hitting it.

The skull had caved in.

She gave Alfred a look that said to be more careful, an inspective once-over, checking for injuries, and nodded to herself before picking up the bear (_she picked up a fucking polar bear!_)and slinging it over her shoulders, holding the legs so it wouldn't fall.

He could do naught but stare until she was out of sight.

"Did she just... kill her favourite animal?"

"Oh, good. You're okay!" Matthew's voice sounded from the far left and Alfred looked over his shoulder at his younger brother, who was holding his hunting rifle above his head and waving as he ran over to America's side.

"Y-yeah. Um, did North-West Territories really just do that?"

"Yes. She's quite merciless."

"... Right."

* * *

Scared? You should be. That woman is fucking SCARY.

-Panther-chan

P.S: Again, I tell you this: I 'm writing this for fun! I'm really sorry if you don't like the way I've potrayed the provinces and territories, but this is how I see them... And the next one is... TRY AND GUESS MOTHAFUCKAS AHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!

:P


	6. Nunavut: Mythical

Okay, okay... Lol. I couldn't resist this one! Explanations on the bottom.

And please remember that this is just for shits and giggles! Seriously. This is just how I imagine the Canadian provinces and territories... It might not even be realistic, or even represent, in any way, the people of Canada. Actually, regard this as utter crack if you wish. Really.

-Panther-chan

* * *

Nunavut: Mythical

It was a world meeting, once again, with most of the countries present. Canada, as usual, wasn't even seen... until he started to glow and a man in deer-hide clothing floated up from the floor behind his chair. The glowing faded, but now everyone's attention was thoroughly riveted on Canada and the man behind him. The traditional clothes of the Native Americans covered him completely, and he pulled the hood back to reveal an aged face tanned from years under the sun. Black hair was braided into a three-foot-long rope with naturally coloured feathers, fangs, claws, and beads.

England was the first to recover. "You can use magic?" he shouted, more surprised than angry.

"I can," the man replied in a deep voice than seemed to resonate throughout the entire building. He put a hand on Canada's shoulder and smiled gently. "Canada, I have news from the tribe elders." He spoke in a language completely foreign to all but his country, who grinned.

"That's great news!"

They continued to converse until Russia interrupted. "Um, I have a question. Are you Nunavut, by any chance?"

"I am, child of Winter."

Russia flinched back like he had been struck, then yelped as the spirit known as General Winter materialized behind him.

"Angakuit, so nice of you to drop by," he rasped, cold seeping from him. Nunavut didn't respond to the use of his human name, other than muttering something in the same language as before that made the cold dissipate – along with General Winter.

Russia could only stare at the man, who patted Matthew on the shoulder and turned, waving his arm in front of him. Bones and beads rattled from where they dangled on his sleeve and a circle on the floor glowed a deep blue. He stepped into it and said something in Inuktitut to Canada before completely sinking into the floor. The glowing stopped and the other nations, still silent, gaped.

"Um... what?" he muttered, feeling shy. Kumajiro batted at his nose.

"I'm hungry. Give me some food."

"Oh... okay. I think Nunavut left some fish here for you..." He reached up and his hand disappeared into thin air before reappearing as he pulled it down again, a whole salmon in his hand. It flopped around, still alive. "Yeah, he left this for you."

The other nations still gaped, until Latvia began to cry and Russia joined him. No one was really sure why the largest country was crying until Ukraine explained that they were tears of joy, because there was someone who could actually control General Winter.

The meeting resumed as normal, except for the fact that people kept glancing at the "magical fish" that Canada's bear was nibbling on contentedly.

* * *

Alright!

1- In case you were wondering why Nunavut is a lot older than Canada, it's because it was first populated by the Natives, family: Inuit. So, since he had citizens way before Mattie did, he is a lot older. Also, it fits the whole "shaman" thing he's got going on.

2- He has those bones and beads and feathers and stuff braided into his hair and attached to his clothes because he lives with a tribe of Inuits, and he lets their kids put feathers and stuff in his hair. Also, they're there to symbolize his close connections with nature and its spirits and such.

3- Russia asked if that was Nunavut because people (a REALLY long time ago, like, a few ten-thousand years ago) crossed an ice bridge from eastern Russia to Northern Canada. So he was wondering where they went.

4- Nunvut didn't actually control General Winter. He just cast a spell that sent him back to Russia. Lol.

5- That fish was in a river in lower Nunavut until Mattie reached up and grabbed it. Yes, Kumajiro eats those regularly.

DATFISH.

-Panther-chan


	7. Yukon: Versatile

Okay, so... I kinda imagined Yukon like this: at Mattie and Alfred's age, but a lot more childish. He really likes being outside, and calls the outdoors "out back", or "the backyard". He's really friendly with all kinds of animals, and likes to wrestle his polar bears, since they're like pets to him. Seriously.

He's also freakishly strong, as seen by this moment in time where he kills a polar bear with his bear hands.

Also: he really likes messing around with people, and he's actually very intelligent, but hates being cooped up inside and won't read for the life of him. He's a big fan of extreme sports and winter sports.

And vodka. His taste for that came from Alaska, mostly.

-Panther-chan

* * *

Yukon: Versatile

Another World Summit meeting was in progress, and Alfred and Matthew were late – mainly because of the accursed snow that was piling waist high. They ended up needing to take a helicopter, and for reasons unknown to America, his little brother had decided to bring one of his territories along: Yukon. The man, who looked to be about the same age as the two nations, wore an off-white modern parka with fur around the edges of the sleeves, the bottom, and the hood. It looked quite warm, along with the same-coloured snow pants and boots. He also had ski goggles on and a large grin. His white mittens were poking out of his parka pockets and the beige toque on his head had a red maple leaf imprinted on it.

"So, where are we going?" he asked, sounding like an excited child.

"We're going to a World Summit in Ottawa," Matthew responded, hugging Kumajiro tightly. The little bear squirmed a bit to get comfortable, then decided he liked Yukon better and reached out with his forepaws.

"Yukon, Yukon," he said, waving his paws in the air. The territory grinned and laughed, plucking him from Canada's grip.

"Hey there, little one!"

"Yukon, Yukon!"

"Hey, Mattie!" Alfred shouted over the roaring of the engine. The snowing clouds had become a bit thicker, but the pilot had assured the warmer nation that all was well.

His brother looked up, surprised at the mention of his name, and Alfred idly wondered why he would be startled. "Y-yes?"

"Isn't that _your_ bear?"

"Well... polar bears live in the northern territories, so... he likes them a lot."

"Oh!"

The rest of the ride passed in silence, until the engine clunked out and the pilot had to make an emergency landing. "Shit! Gotta land here!"

She managed to get them down safely and they piled out into the snow, Alfred already feeling cold. "Here, take Kumajiro." He gladly accepted the surprisingly warm little bear from the territory, but the animal growled until Yukon spoke to him in Inuktitut, before saying, "I'll go find some shelter! Matthew, can you stay with these two and try to keep them warm?"

"Yes! Hurry, please!"

Yukon gave his nation a crisp salute and dove into the snow, the wind howling like a maddened beast. It was turning into a blizzard quite quickly, but for some strange reason, Canada and his citizen were content.

"W-why a-aren't y-you t-two f-freezing?"

"I'm Canadian!" the pilot shouted, whooping and punching the air. Matthew blinked, then grinned and laughed, shouting wordlessly and happily into the air with her. Alfred had never seen him this outgoing before, and it startled him. What else was he not noticing about his little brother?

They stayed inside the helicopter to try and block some of the wind, and eventually Matthew and Kumajiro had to get out, piling snow up to insulate the air vehicle. Alfred, used to seeing only the tiny little polar bear, almost pissed himself when a full-sized adult male white bear stared at him through a window.

"Are you okay?" it asked in a deep, rumbling voice. America could do naught but whimper, while the pilot reached over and wiped the fog off the window to give a thumbs-up.

"W-was that K-Kumajiro?"

"Yep!"

Not half an hour later, after Mattie and his bear had returned to the confines of the vehicle, Yukon returned with a sled freshly – and professionally – made of pine trees and a team of white wolves. He held what looked to be a harness made of animal skin, and a full bear pelt lay over the sled itself.

"C'mon out! Let's go!"

Matthew was the first out of the helicopter, with the now small again Kumajiro and the pilot following closely. She gave the wolves a wide berth and followed Yukon's directions to sit in the sled, under the bear skin. The territory assured her it was perfectly safe and asked America to do the same. There was enough room for the both of them, with a bit to spare, and Mattie ended up sitting on the front end of the sled. He whooped happily, throwing his hands in the air and laughing, the moment they started to move. The wolves had, for some strange reason, allowed Yukon to harness them, and they contentedly pulled the two nations, the pilot, and the territory to the nearby meeting at a steady pace.

When they arrived, England and France were the first to greet them. America, having dozed off, was startled by France's shriek of fear – because of the wolves, of course, who ran free the moment the leather harnesses were removed. Yukon waved and they howled goodbye, and he grinned, turning to the two gaping nations.

"Wassup?"

Canada sighed and stood, stretching stiffly with a smile on his face. Kumajiro grew to about ten feet in length and shook his thick fur coat free of ice and snow, and France, now thoroughly frightened, jumped into England's arms. The man promptly dropped him and ran inside. A moment later, Germany, Japan, and Italy came to find the source of the ruckus. They all gaped at the large bear and the grinning young man, and the smiling pilot and the yawning America.

"What happened?" Germany shouted, slightly concerned.

"Oh. Well, the helicopter's rotor got ice stuck in it and we crash-landed out back," Yukon pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. "So, I killed a bear and gave the meat to the wolves and made a sled and brought us over here!"

Germany's mouth closed, then opened a few times before he sputtered, "What?"

"What?"

"What?"

"Disdick!" Yukon laughed hysterically before patting Germany on the shoulder and walking inside, waiting for Canada and his now-small bear before entering. They later found out that he was the one to catch up on Canada's waiting paperwork, completing it with little help from his country.

As he passed Germany, America put a hand on the other nation's shoulder. "I have some advice for you, thanks to a few discoveries about my little bro's provinces... and territories."

"...What?"

"Don't mess with Canada. They'll fucking kill you before he can say, "eh?""

* * *

So there ya have it! Yukon the versatile, childish territory!

Lol.

Any questions, comments? Feel free to write me!

-Panther-chan


	8. Ontario: Connected

HOLY CRAP it's been so long since I updated.

Anyway, here's Ontario - the more, ah, _connected_ of the provinces.

-Panther

* * *

Ontario: Connected

Once again, Alfred was hanging out at his brother's place. He was more cautious now than ever before, because he had met some of Canada's "minions", but not Ontario. Mattie had assured him that the province wouldn't hurt him, but he didn't quite believe it. After all, Quebec seemed to have no trouble threatening him – and promising to keep those threats. What would Ontario be like?

They met up with a man about their age, with slicked-back hair that was multiple shades of brown. It curled up at the base of his neck and the tips were bleached white or dyed red. It also had a few streaks of blonde, and the color matched England's. His eyes were dark blue and he was a bit pale, but wore a lazy grin and a pair of black slacks, along with a red dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top two buttons undone, showing a bit of extra skin. There was a white bandanna around his neck, probably occasionally used to keep his hair back. It was imprinted with the Ontario flag.

"Yo," he greeted, and Matthew smiled back as he gave him a tight hug. Kumajiro got one too, and he glanced over at Alfred. "This America?" he asked in a friendly tone. His nation nodded, and the visiting country got a bro-hug, too.

"Welcome to Canada. Specifically, Ontario."

He led them through a labyrinth of back streets and alleys and they came out on a boulevard, where he led them to a red sports car and waved them into it before getting into the driver's seat. He drove them to his house, a large mansion that more closely resembled a castle, and someone came over to park his car in the garage for him.

At some point they ended up eating popcorn and watching movies. It was the most normal visit Alfred had gotten with his little brother, until there were the sounds of a gunfight coming from the other end of the mansion. Ontario sighed and slipped his cell out of his pocket, pressing the speed-dial and growling.

"Why is there a gunfight in my house?"

Someone one the other line apologized, and chattered for a few seconds before he interrupted. "I don't give a flying rat's ass about your damn grudge. Get these motherfuckers outta my house, _now_, before I skin you alive, you stupid mobster-wannabe."

He flipped it shut and moments later, the shooting receded into shouting. That soon vanished as well and Alfred stared. "Was that...?"

"Yeah, a gang decided it'd be fun to have a shoot out at my place. Sorry for the interruption, Mattie."

"Oh, it's no problem." He smiled softly.

The blonde-brunette mix grinned and faced the TV again. Alfred shuddered, realizing that Ontario was probably one of the more... _connected_ provinces of Canada.

Yet another scary one. This was turning out fabulously for Alfred.

* * *

So? Like, don't like?

-Panther

(P.S.: Putting more up. Enjoy the Canadian Awesomeness.)


	9. Prince Edward Island: Cruel

Here's the Prince (Edward Island)!

-Panther

* * *

Prince Edward Island: Cruel

He wasn't exactly an intimidating man, but Alfred knew not to trust him. All the other provinces and territories he had met so far had been special, and a little scary in their own way. He was wearing a pair of black trousers and a white oxford shirt with a navy tie, along with two leather bracelets and a black cross around his neck and two small diamond stud earrings on his left ear. He was a mixture of formal and casual, and it fit with his careful dark green eyes. He was hiding something beneath his polite, cheerful mask – and Alfred didn't really want to know what it was.

"Hey Mattie, Alfred. Welcome to Prince Edward Island!" He gave Mattie a quick hug and pat Alfred on the shoulder, then led them into the hotel. "I've got a room already set up for Alfred, so you can stash your stuff up there and then we'll head out to the fishing spot."

The day was spent at the shores of the island, fishing and catching their dinner – which Alfred was not aware of until Prince Edward Island, or Prince for short, told him that they would be eating what they catch.

"So, now that we've got our fish, let's go back to my house and prepare dinner! Since you are a guest Alfred, Mattie and I will be cooking."

Dinner was prepared and eaten, and it was surprisingly delicious. America hadn't been expecting such gourmet cooking from a guy who looked more like a CEO than a cook. Still, supper was eaten in peace and a server cleaned up as Prince led them to a home movie center in his basement.

"Alright! Movie time!" he declared. The lights dimmed and the TV was turned on. The movie started and that was when the two nations realized something very, very important.

It was a horror movie.

"Prince! I told you Alfred didn't like horror movies!"

"I'm aware," Prince smiled, and the expression was not a kind one. Alfred was screaming at every sound and because he had already seen the movie, it seemed to have twice the impact it would have otherwise, thanks to the anticipation. Prince simply smiled and watched in satisfaction as the southern nation was reduced to a sobbing heap behind the couch, gripping a pillow in a death hold. Matthew sighed exasperatedly as he tried to calm his frightened brother.

"Prince!" he called out, slightly irritated. "Why would you do that?"

His province shrugged, still smiling. "For shits and giggles?" he asked, grinning. Mattie sighed and shook his head, and when the movie was finally over Alfred had realized why he should fear Prince Edward Island. Not only would he most likely replace a man's wrist with his ankle just to see if his toes would still wiggle, he might have microwaved a cat as a child just to see what would happen.

He was, without a doubt, the cruellest province Alfred would encounter.

And still, he smiled.

* * *

FYI, I imagine that the island can be quite cruel to those he doesn't like because he is so closely connected to the nearby Atlantic Ocean, and my head-canon says that the oceans, when taking on a human form, can be pretty nasty to those they don't like. Hence the storms and sinking ships.

Another shall be up momentarily! Guess who...? Ah, fuck it, I'll just tell you.

DAT NEWFIE.

-Panther


	10. Newfoundland & Labrador: Beasts

Yeah, so, Newfie. Enjoy the randomly named animals, yes?

-Panther

* * *

Newfoundland & Labrador: Beasts

"MATTIE!" Suddenly, his brother was tackled to the ground by a yellow blur that barked. Loudly. "Hey, it's Mattie! Long time no see, guy!"

A large, muscled man with black hair and a furry brown cap with the ear flaps down bounded over with three other dogs by his side. He was giving them a friendly grin and helped his nation up despite the huge Labrador retriever trying to lick his face off.

"'Ey, Matt, long time no see, eh? I dunno why yer 'ere now, but what'ver! C'mon ta ma place, we'll 'ave some bear 'n beer, bye!"

His accent made his speech somewhat... foreign to Alfred, but he let himself be dragged along by his brother anyway.

"Great!" he laughed, talking over his shoulder to his brother. "Newfoundland makes the best bear steak you'll ever eat! And he makes the best beer!"

Alfred had to run to keep up with the large man's pace. He had to be at least six foot five, and he had a lot of muscle on him too. He was wearing hunter's garb, all camouflage with a slightly faded and patched up plaid shirt underneath. When he took off his jacket (to cool off, maybe?), he brought two fingers to his lips and whistled loudly. About thirty seconds later, twenty-something dogs ran towards him, all with ducks in their mouths.

"Good pups!" he called out, petting each roughly on the flanks as he collected the ducks. Mattie chuckled, removed his hoodie (how did he do that? It must have been five degrees Celsius, if that!), rolled up his sleeves, and got to work besides his province, plucking and cleaning the ducks, removing the bullets and checking for... Probably bullet poisoning or something.

The dogs wandered around America, sniffing at him and licking his hands. They were pretty much fearless, and he took some time to pet them and greet them. They all had leather collars, probably fashioned by Newfoundland himself.

"Hey, Mattie," he called out.

"Yeah?" his brother replied somewhat absently, preoccupied with cleaning up the ducks.

"Where's Labrador? I mean, isn't it Newfoundland _and Labrador_?"

"Hm." The largest of the three personifications sat up and looked around, like he was trying to find something. "Eh. YOGI!" he roared, drawing out the vowels. He received his reply in the form of a loud, booming, resounding _bark!_ It echoed through the forest and thundering footsteps reached them in the form of a giant chocolate Labrador retriever who tackled Newfoundland, who had been smart enough to stand up and get away from the two countries. "Yogi!" he yelled cheerfully, throwing his arms around the dog, who looked to be in the midst of ploughing him into the ground with happy muffled barks and grunts. The beast had to be the size of a minivan.

The two wrestled for a while and Alfred couldn't help but feel a sense of awe. This was clearly a man who was friends with the beasts of his land. A rare feat.

"Who's a good puppy? _Who's a good puppy!_" he growled playfully at his dog, who yelped and took off faster than a car after the branch Macky had just through.

Not a stick.

A _branch_.

"Uh, Macky?" Mattie called out.

"Yeah, guy?" the province turned around with a friendly grin, brown eyes glowing in sheer joy at seeing his monster of a dog. The ear flaps on his cap flew around his head as he spun around.

"The ducks are ready."

"Great! You two go on head inside, I'mma stay out 'n play 'round with Yogi fer bit. I'll be dere da rackley."

"Okay."

Mattie smiled at his province and dragged Alfred inside, where they found two raccoons going through the pantry. The southern country got ready to shoo them away, right before his brother walked forward and greeted them with a hand(paw)shake each.

"Hello Tenny and Tanny!" he said cheerfully. Suddenly, a bird flew in through the window and dropped a small rolled-up paper on the counter before hopping over to a dish of seeds, moving the small plastic cover with its beak. It started to eat the seeds and berries.

"Hey Hef!" he gently stroked the bird's back and it ruffled its wings in acknowledgement.

"Uh, Mattie?"

"Yeah?"

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?"

From seemingly empty space, a cat appeared, clawed at Alfred's cheeks, then joined the raccoons in trying to find something to eat. The nation twitched slightly.

"Eh, sorry about Gallee, she's a bit sensitive to noise."

"... Right."

Obviously, Newfoundland was friends with the beasts. Alfred classified him as such when he got home later that night, also adding a footnote.

_"Don't mess with Newfie unless you want your country's animals to start trying to kill you. Also, he makes very good bear steak. And beer."_

* * *

I believe that N&L actually makes ale more than beer, but whatever. *shrug* And the bear steak? Yeah, they have special bear hunting outfitters... And... Totally want a bear steak now.

-Panther


	11. Nova Scotia: Loyal

Yeah, so, Nova Scotia. No idea what the people there are like, since I've never been. I modeled the personification after Scotland, since (HELLO!) Nova Scotia literally means New Scotland. So she kinds of sees him as a father/older brother/uncle/mentor person. And yes, she has a dragon. Might include that later, with Alberta's Trampling Cow.

Someone said that NS has to have fish, so THERE YA GO.

DATFISH.

* * *

Nova Scotia: Loyal

"Mata!" a voice called out, a noticeable Scottish accent only adding to Alfred's fear. Would this province be like Scotland? He shuddered, thankful that he had stood behind his brother when they had entered the large Parliament building. "Good tae see ya, lad!" a tall, intimidating woman with orange-red hair and bright green eyes grabbed him up in a bear hug and swung him around, laughing uproariously. "How've ya been, Mata? Ah haven't seen ya in nearly a year!"

"S-so that's why your here then?" he asked, fixing his glasses when she put him down.

"Aye, ah'm here tae see ya! Aren't ya glad ah left BC behind this time?"

"Well, yeah... heh-heh... especially since I brought Al along. He wanted to meet you, I think..." The blonde nervously rubbed the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly. "Al, this is Nova Scotia. Peregrine Macall is her human name. Eh, did I say it right?"

"Naw, but ah don't mind! It's _Peh-reh-grin_, aye?" she grinned, showing off slightly elonginated canines. "C'mon, th' others are waitin' in th' back!"

"... Others?"

"Aye, Alberta 'n Manitoba tagged along when they heard ah was comin' 'ere!" She laughed again. "An' ah think Scotland's 'ere too!"

Mattie chuckled along with her, even as she took off at a jog towards the gardens at the back of the Parliament building. "She's named after Scotland, actually," he explained when Alfred gave him a confused look. "Nova Scotia means New Scotland. Obviously, the two are pretty close."

"... So, she's drunk, right? She acts like him when drunk?"

"No."

"Oh, good." He gave a relieved smile.

"She's like that all the time."

"Baw, what?" It turned into a horrified grimace.

"C'mon, I wanna go see Uncle!" Matthew grinned, grabbing his brother's wrist, not noticing his terrified wailing. "Uncle Neill!" the blonde cried out happily. "Where are you?"

"O're here, Mata!" a deep, scratchy voice called out with a much thicker Scottish brogue. "How are ya?" the redhead grinned, hugging Canada the same way Nova Scotia had just a minute prior. Almost expectedly, Matthew grinned and laughed, hugging back with a back-breaking force he rarely ever used.

"I'm great! How've you been? Nova Scotia tells me you've been pretty good, but I wanna hear about the hunts! How did they turn out?" the younger nation asked eagerly.

"Ah, great!"

While the two chatted and caught up, Alfred cautiously took a seat next to his brother's province, who was drinking straight whisky and fiddling with her favourite set of bagpipes. "So, Nova Scotia."

"Perry tae fam'ly," she corrected without taking her eyes off her bagpipes.

"Okay... So, Perry."

"Aye?"

"Why should I be scared of you?"

"Eh?" she looked up. "Th' hell are ya talkin' aboot, lad?" she demanded, confused. "Ah nev'r said anything aboot fearin' me."

"No, no, no!" he waved it away, exasperated that he had to explain. "I mean, like... uh, I should fear Newfie and Labrador 'cause they've got their beasts and NWT because she's freaking merciless, and Manitoba 'cause he pretty much _is_ revenge. So, why should I fear you?"

She blinked a few times, then burst out laughing her signature hearty laugh. "Ah, ya wee fool! Ya got no reason tae fear me 'less ya try t' invade Mata's land!" She slapped him on the back, still chuckling and seemingly unaware of his pained wince at her slap. She never did learn how to hold back her strength. Damn her closeness to the Atlantic! Stupid island provinces..."There's nuthin' aboot me ya need to be scared of, lad. Really, I would nev'r hurt fam'ly!"

"Good to know. But, uh, what about other countries? Like, say..." he searched for a country she didn't get along with too well. "England?"

Her face darkened. "Tha' li'l bastard'll nev'r tame me," she muttered, grabbing the bottle of whisky and taking a swig from it in favour of sipping from her glass. "Nev'r, ya hear me ya wee shite!" she roared to the sky. "Ya canna't take tha wild outta me, England!" Her eyes were now blazing. "Ya won' be tamin' me any time soon ya fuck'r!" From out of nowhere, she grabbed a still-struggling fish and flung it at the chain-mesh fence, startling the guards. "Oi, potato-heads!" she called out. "Wanna fight?" They shook their heads right off the bat and, probably calling for reinforcements, spoke into their radios. "Feh." Another fish magically appeared in her hand and while she searched for a target, she swung it wildly in the air, spattering everything with water droplets as the fish flopped about listlessly.

"Eep!" Alfred threw himself onto the ground when she stood up abruptly, fish still swinging, knocking her chair to the ground as she stormed towards Scotland, who looked a bit confused when she smacked him upside the head with a large fish, which was then thrown over her shoulder. It nearly hit Alfred in the face, but he ducked and it went sailing through a wall. A brick one. The blonde nation simply stared at the hole with wide, terrified eyes. How did a _fish _do that much damage?

"Oi, Scotland! I need a fight, ah'm riled up 'cause o' tha' wank'r England!"

"Eh?" he demanded, his own green eyes starting to blaze too. "Wha' th' fuck he do this time?" he bellowed, wiping fish scales off his face and then wiping his hand on his kilt.

"Ya rememb'r when he first got Mata fr'm France?" she said, finishing off her whisky and standing before Scotland, her head just barely reaching up to his chin. The bottle also went sailing over her shoulder, through the wall and smacking a tired-looking politician in the back of the head. He then took a long nap. "Tried ta tame me, tha fucker!"

"Ar, now I wanna fight!" he said. "Pub?" he suggested.

"Pub!"

And they marched off to find the nearest pub where they could start a fight (maybe even a riot), raiding Matthew's stash of malt scotch on the way and leaving two very confused blondes behind, along with some potatoes to replace the stolen alcohol.

"Why did they do that?" Mattie asked. "What did you do, Al?" he asked in an accusatory tone.

"Nothing, I swear on Iggy's cooking!" he responded immediately, throwing his hands up. "I just asked what reason she had to make me fear her."

"... What." Deadpanning again.

"Well, I fear BC 'cause she's so violent, and NWT 'cause she merciless and scary, and..."

"Yeah, yeah. So what did she say?"

"Something about Iggy never being able to tame her." Alfred sighed and shook his head. "Don't really get it though." When his brother starting to laugh, he swung around and crossed his arms. "Don't laugh at me! It's rude to laugh at heroes!"

"You should be afraid of her," he panted between chuckles. "You should be very afraid of her because she's untameable."

"What?"

"She's completely wild, Al. If you try to change her ways to more "civilized" ones-"

"Like Iggy tried to do to Australia?" Alfred interrupted, pushing Texas further up on the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah. If you try to do something like that, well..." he winced, probably remembering something. "It won't be pleasant."

"Yeah... so, wait. If she's untameable, why does she listen to you?" Alfred asked, completely confused.

"Well, if she's anything, she's loyal. Remember 1812?"

"... Yeah...?"

"Well, England was secretly trying to use her as some kind of naval base. She beat him senseless, killed half his sailors and drank all their rum before sending them off." His brother's eyes were wide open and the right one twitched slightly. "But don't let anyone know you know that! It's supposed to stay a secret." The northern nation shrugged at the questioning look, then turned frantic again. "If you want to know more, go ask England! I need to go make sure they don't play dodge-ball with speedboats again!"

"... That sounds like a blast," America commented absently, watching his brother run out after his province and the other visiting nation.

"Perry! Uncle Neill! Wait a second!"

* * *

Yeah, so, she's tall because I said so. No, jokes. Her human-form-thing is tall because she's a direct descendant of the Celts, who were... eh, taller and stronger than the people of today. And, since she's connected very closely with the Atlantic (she's an island province), the power she can call upon manifests itself by making her taller and stronger than she should be.

As for the whole "I hate England" thing, it's purely personal. He tried to tame her, she's totally freaking wild and didn't take any shit from the country. So she hates him (well, not quite) and will only be civil if Canada asks her really nicely or if they're discussing politics publicly or something, since Canada and England are allies and she doesn't want to even chance ruining that alliance.

RAMBLE. OVAH.

One more province to go! Then I'll post something else about all their special pets - like Kumajiro is Canada's special pet/companion thing.

...

DATFISH.

-Panther


End file.
